Chapter 5
Things were most certainly not going according to plan.
Richard stood beside his halted coach with a wheel so thoroughly splintered it looked as though it had been attacked by a battering ram rather than struck by an unfortunate rock.
With the sun already high in the sky and no clouds in sight, the heat pressed down on them with relentless determination.
He glanced upward and let out a quiet sigh.
There was no telling how long the delay would be, but given his luck, it would be several hours at least.
Beside him stood Miss Theodosia, looking utterly unbothered by their predicament.
She was dressed in a blue traveling habit that suited her figure entirely too well, with her dark hair tucked neatly beneath a coordinating bonnet.
She had her hands folded in front of her, as if she were standing in the drawing room rather than beside a broken carriage on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere.
Her serene expression only served to irritate him further.
A footman approached, one end of a neatly folded blanket draped over his forearm. “It may take some time to replace the wheel, my lord,” he reported. “Would you like me to lay out a blanket for you while you wait?”
Richard opened his mouth to reply, but Miss Theodosia stepped in without hesitation.
“There’s no need. I can lay out the blanket for his lordship,” she said brightly, reaching out her gloved hand.
The footman hesitated. “It’s no trouble, Miss.”
“I insist,” she replied, tone polite but firm. “You’ll be of far more use assisting with the wheel.”
After another uncertain glance between them, the footman gave a small bow and handed over the blanket.
Miss Theodosia turned her head slightly and gestured towards a patch of shade beneath an enormous oak tree just a few yards off the road. “We can sit over there. It should be far more comfortable than standing in the sun.”
Without waiting for his agreement—or perhaps anticipating his protest—she began walking towards the tree with the blanket tucked under one arm.
Richard followed, falling into step beside her with a long-suffering sigh. “Do you always take charge of situations that don’t require your involvement?”
She gave him a wide-eyed look that could have passed for innocence if not for the glint of mischief in her gaze. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The footman could have easily laid the blanket down for us. It’s his job.”
“And are we so helpless that we cannot manage a blanket ourselves?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“That’s not the point,” he muttered.
“Then do enlighten me, my lord. What is the point?”
He huffed. “It’s simply a matter of propriety. Of station.”
She came to an abrupt halt and turned to face him. “Propriety? Forgive me, but I would rather the man attend to the broken wheel—something that actually requires strength—than spend his time smoothing a blanket upon the ground. Don’t you agree?”
He opened his mouth to argue but stopped. “You make a good point—”
She cut in, already walking again. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ is coming?”
“Because…” he said, catching up, “you deprived him of doing his job.”
She laughed softly. “Laying down a blanket is hardly a task of national importance. I daresay even you could manage it.”
“I’m sure I could,” he said, only mildly affronted. “But that’s not the—”
“We’re here,” she announced cheerfully, spreading the blanket on the grass in one graceful motion. She turned to him with a smug smile. “Look what I’ve accomplished. All on my own.”
He eyed her with no small amount of exasperation and lowered himself onto the farthest corner of the blanket, as though keeping distance might preserve his sanity.
Despite himself, he relished the opportunity to be off his feet.
His legs ached from hours in the saddle, and every muscle in his back protested the jostling of the coach.
Still, he would have preferred a steaming bath in his townhouse to this roadside interlude with the most maddening woman he had ever met.
From the reticule dangling from her wrist, Miss Theodosia retrieved a small green book—the very same one she had been reading the day before. She opened it and looked over at him with a hopeful expression. “Would you care for me to read aloud?”
“Good gads, no. That book sounded intolerably dull yesterday, and I cannot imagine it's improved overnight.”
Unperturbed, she offered sweetly, “I could retrieve another from my trunk, if you’d like a different selection.”
“I would prefer silence.”
She shrugged one shoulder, utterly unbothered. “As you wish.” She opened her book and began to read silently, her gaze drifting over the pages.
Richard leaned back on his elbows and tried to ignore her, tried to enjoy the stillness of the shaded grove. The breeze was faint but cooling, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might actually relax.
Then something wet and warm landed squarely on his cheek.
His eyes flew open, and he reached up instinctively, fingers brushing against something unpleasantly sticky. He pulled his hand back and grimaced.
Bird droppings. Of course.
Miss Theodosia choked back a laugh, her shoulders shaking. “You have… something on your cheek,” she said, with far too much amusement in her voice.
“Thank you for that helpful observation,” he remarked dryly.
Reaching into her reticule again, she pulled out the handkerchief he had lent her the previous day. She extended it with a smile that was far too cheerful for his liking. “Here. This might help.”
Accepting it with a sigh of resignation, he wiped his cheek and wondered if this day could get any worse.
As she returned to her reading, he lay back and stared at the canopy above. The birds chirped merrily, as if mocking him.
“Perhaps we should move the blanket?” Richard suggested, brushing once more at his cheek, even though the offending mess had already been wiped away.
Miss Theodosia gave him a look of such dry amusement that it bordered on affectionate mockery. “It is nearly mathematically impossible for the same man to be defecated on twice in one sitting.”
“Mathematics offers me little comfort in this instance.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, turning a page in her book with lazy elegance. “But I do believe the birds have had their fun.”
Still feeling vaguely offended by the indignity of it all, Richard tried a different tack. “What if you were to get droppings on your gown? Wouldn’t that distress you?”
She glanced down at her blue skirts, then back up with a shrug. “Not particularly. I can think of far worse things. My father, for instance, kept a parrot that used to screech constantly. Compared to that, this is a delight.”
“What an awful pet.”
“You are quite the complainer, my lord. One might even call you delicate.”
He bristled. “I am not delicate.”
“No?” she asked, eyes twinkling. “Then why the melodrama over a little bird droppings?”
“Because I value hygiene. And dignity.”
“And yet here you are,” she replied, waving a hand at their rustic setting, “sitting on a blanket in the grass like a disgruntled schoolboy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Must you always speak your mind?”
“Yes,” she replied. “It’s my most charming trait.”
“I would not call it charming,” he muttered.
She tilted her head, lips twitching. “Have you ever stepped in manure?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Well then,” she said, as though concluding a formal argument, “that is unequivocally worse. And as such, bird droppings are hardly cause for such dramatics.”
Richard let out a weary sigh and leaned back on his elbows. “For the love of all things sacred, can we return to silence?”
“You were the one who broke it,” she said sweetly. “Not I.”
Before he could formulate a suitably scathing reply, one of the footmen approached with a respectful bow. “My lord, Miss—the wheel has been replaced. We are ready to resume our journey.”
“Thank the heavens,” Richard muttered, springing to his feet as if the earth itself had become intolerable.
Miss Theodosia rose more gracefully and gathered the blanket into a neat fold. “Should I take offense at your eagerness to be gone from my company?” she asked lightly.
“I merely wish to get back on the road.”
She arched an elegant brow, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press.
“Of course,” she murmured, handing the blanket to the waiting footman.
Without another word, she turned and began the walk back to the coach, her back straight, her stride unhurried, never once glancing behind to see if he would follow.
Richard watched her for a moment before falling into step. She didn’t behave like any woman of his acquaintance. She was strong-willed to the point of aggravation, stubborn, entirely too independent—but something about her refused to be dismissed.
She was also hiding something. That much, he knew without question.
And he intended to find out what it was.
A footman stepped forward and opened the coach door, offering a gloved hand to assist Miss Theodosia inside. She gathered her skirts, placing one foot on the iron step, but before ascending, she turned her head back towards Richard, her expression laced with that familiar, infuriating amusement.
“I do hope your ride will put you in a more tolerable mood, my lord,” she said sweetly, her tone hovering somewhere between jest and gentle rebuke.
Richard’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to bite back the retort that sprang to mind. Yes, well, not being in your company is a balm in and of itself, he thought. Instead, he forced a smile and replied, “And I hope you enjoy your nap, assuming you plan to take one or two, which seems likely.”
Her eyes sparkled as her lips curved into a small smile. “You are beginning to know me rather well.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to let the meaning linger between them. “I am learning a great many things about you, whether you wish me to or not.”
At that, the smile faltered. Only slightly, but enough for him to notice.